


Only What Counts

by intentioncraft



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Comfort, Cuddling, M/M, Marriage, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Dean, Vampire!Benny, baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 16:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4228860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intentioncraft/pseuds/intentioncraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can’t imagine it’ll be much longer,” Benny remarks. A thrill of excitement in his fingertips, like he needs to find something to do with them, something to prepare, but he’s done nearly everything he possibly can with there being no actual baby yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only What Counts

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is just baby fever talking. Shameful. I promise this isn't at all like _Breaking Dawn_ but it's possible Dean has read it.

The door to their master bathroom is shut, the mirror crystal clear as Benny glances at his reflection as he passes by with his chest, shoulders, and arms still pale and bright in the dimmed lights. The air smells sweet, cloying. Like spring, but with the dark, tantalizing smell of his human husband stretched out in their large claw-footed bathtub. Benny treads as quietly as he can to Dean’s side to brush a few stray hairs off his forehead.

Dean doesn't move and his eyes are closed but he hums in acknowledgement. The water creeps up to his neck, nearly opaque from the soaps he’s used, and his breath makes ripples on the surface. It’s not deep enough to hide the protruding mountain of his stomach, however, and Dean purses his lips every so often and passes his hands over the lump with a tiny frown.

“Can’t sneak up on me anymore. Those prenatal vitamins made for vampires gave me super senses or something,” he grumbles, but his words run into each other, barely awake. Tired and hollow.

Benny sits on the floor and folds his elbows so he can lean them on the side of the tub, “In your fragile state, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m not fragile. I’m a fucking barrel,” Dean slaps some water at him. It’s lukewarm and bitter with soap as Benny instinctively licks it off his lips. Dean watches him through sleep-squinty eyes.

He can’t help himself; Benny’s hand flits out to hover over the hump of Dean’s stomach, the human’s body heat rising off him like a furnace even though the overall temperature of the bath isn’t hot enough to do anything at all. Doctor’s orders, but Dean won’t give up baths for anything.

Benny pauses, and Dean nods his permission.

Laying his hand gently over Dean’s stomach, palm flat and fingers spread, Benny marvels at the simple beauty of something so _solid_ and real. He loves Dean, has loved him for years, and Dean’s physical allure is both typical and quite atypical for a human. But the way his body has changed over the eight months of his pregnancy, the way he’s grown so large and swollen up in ways that Dean himself has complained were wholly undesirable, Benny finds Dean anything _but_ undesirable. It’s not a vampire thing, he’s certain of it, but he’s drawn to the simple fullness of Dean’s body, the weight and the shape of him. His presence is seductive in the most honest, most primal ways.

Dean calls him a fetishist and a kinky freak, but he folds easily when Benny tells him there’s nothing deviant about his attraction to someone he loves, no matter what he looks like. Or how frequently he has to pee. 

With his thumb rubbing under Dean’s protruding belly-button, Dean breathes out through his nose at Benny’s touch and lets his head fall back against the inflatable pillow suctioned to the side of the tub. His eyelashes fan out in wet triangles over the slightly purpled skin under his eyes.

“Can’t imagine it’ll be much longer,” Benny remarks. A thrill of excitement in his fingertips, like he needs to find something to _do_ with them, something to prepare, but he’s done nearly everything he possibly can with there being no actual baby yet.

“So, you just gonna sit there and pet me or are you gonna get in and let me sleep on you?”

“I dunno, chief. There room for three in there?”

“Shut up.”

A smile tugs at Benny’s lips. They installed a massive bathtub in their home for a few reasons, so he wordlessly obliges Dean and strips down to nothing. Dean levers himself away from the side so Benny can slip in behind him, his body sliding down with a loud squeak as he settles in with his legs bracketing Dean’s on either side. The water sloshes over the edge from the commotion, but Dean leans back into Benny’s chest and things are as still as if Benny’s been there the entire time.

Dean’s heavy, but it’s a good weight, a full, living weight that sinks into Benny gratefully as Benny threads his arms under Dean to wrap them around his enormous middle and massage the tender skin under his nipples. Dean groans long and low enough to draw a shiver from Benny.

“We can’t fuck in here. No room.”

“Wasn’t really my plan, anyway.”

“Sure. I know what you are, kinky bastard,” Dean teases, “But I don’t feel that great right now.”

Benny furrows his brow, “How do you feel?”

“Tired. Kind of nauseous.”

“Hungry?”

“Fuck, no.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

Dean hesitates, “Dunno. Last night? Had some cereal.”

That’s almost fourteen hours ago. A curl of worry in the pit of Benny’s stomach makes his hands stiffen against Dean’s chest. After months of enduring Dean’s somewhat frightening appetite, any sudden absence is alarming. Paired with the clipped edge to Dean’s words, the shallow, nasal breaths, and the grey-tinged pallor of his skin that Benny is ashamed for just noticing _now_ , he believes he has reason to be concerned, “You should try to eat something, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head and says, irritated, “I _said_ I’m not hungry.”

Benny lowers his hands to Dean’s stomach, feeling over the tightly stretched skin for any sign that something might be amiss. The faint tightness in his chest ramps up the more he wonders and threatens to choke him when he realizes that Dean might be sick, that the nature of this pregnancy might be catching up with them and Benny can’t do a thing to stop it, and wouldn’t know how to convince Dean to stop either.

“Are you in pain?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Benny, but could you please stop worrying,” Dean complains, “It’s all anybody ever does lately. I promise, I’m _fine_.”

“I know what fine means to you, so forgive me if I don’t believe it.”

Dean mutters something incoherent and possibly insulting but drops his head back against Benny’s shoulder, submitting to Benny’s hands once more. He feels all over, gently but pressing down hard enough to feel someone press back. He does it a few times, their baby responding to Benny’s hands like she always does, but Dean’s breathing sharpens each time Benny feels a foot or a hand greet his touch and it eventually gets so bad that Dean’s hand comes out of the water to grab Benny’s wrist to keep him from touching his stomach.

Benny’s frown deepens, but he relents and kisses the back of Dean’s head, “It’s important that you’re honest with me right now,” he hears Dean grunt again, “Is she hurting you?”

Dean shifts against him and tilts his head to the side.

“It’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.”

Benny tips his head back and misses the pillow with a wet _thunk_ , “Lord above, Dean Winchester,” his voice comes out angrier than he means for it to, but he isn't pleased, and a bit of anger is usually more productive than the fear spreading slowly outward from his gut. _  
_

But Dean dismisses him anyhow, “Calm down. She’s not going to _eat_ through me.”

“She’s half-vampire. You have no idea...no clue what my kind is like.”

“ _Your_ kind? She’s one-half me, in case you forgot,” Dean retorts, "Plus, I do know vampires. I know  _you_. And if she's anything like you, then what's the problem?"

“Dean —”

“Shut up,” Dean’s bark is brittle, and he grimaces as he sits up in the tub. Benny isn’t taken aback enough to _not_ throw his arm out to support Dean’s back as he heaves himself into a sitting position between Benny’s legs. Water falls down his back in rivulets, soap clinging to his skin and he groans like a creature from the darkest parts of the ocean as the new position puts more pressure on his stomach, “She’s not…this is stupid, Benny. I don't want to fight about it. But I just _know_ that she won’t hurt me on purpose. I know that.”

Benny’s lip curls into a rueful smile as he backs down from the argument and rubs Dean’s slippery back, “But she is. Even if she doesn’t mean to.”

Dean says something rude again and attempts to get out of the bathtub. Benny moves quicker than him, however, and drips water all over the floor as he reaches with both arms to help Dean over the side of the tub. Dean’s feet slap against the soaked tiles and he doesn’t let go.

“I am so _done_ with you manhandling me like I’m blow-up sex doll,” Dean complains, even as he leans into Benny for support.

“I know for a fact you like being manhandled,” Benny replies with an easy brush of laughter, “But it’ll be over soon, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not. You’re the one who won’t stop talking about all the bad things that _could_ happen,” Dean says, voice tight as he accepts red fluffy towels from Benny and hugs them close to his body. His fingers knead the material as Benny dries himself off with another towel, “It’s all anybody ever wants to talk about. All the doctors, everybody at work. They never say anything good, just how worried they are about me. How they think it’ll screw me up and that I shouldn’t have done it and that we shouldn’t even be _married_.”

A pang of old, buried hurt hits Benny at that. Over the past few years since their wedding, they’ve managed to at least _pretend_ to forget some of the things that Dean’s family members and a few of his friends said about Benny. They expressed their fear and concern about the two of them starting a family _years_ ago, before they'd even decided they wanted that, and now Benny isn’t sure at all that Dean has even told all of them that they were expecting. 

“I don’t know how this is supposed to go,” Dean says in a smaller voice when Benny silently wrests the red towel from him and starts to pat him down with it, taking care not to press too hard over his belly, “But I can’t…after everything, all those people saying we couldn’t do it…”

Benny pulls the towel around Dean’s shoulders and tugs both ends so Dean takes a step toward him. Their foreheads touch and Dean’s lips are searching, soft and warm, for Benny’s, and when they break apart, “I’m with you, Dean. Always have been,” he reminds Dean in a hushed tone, “I just don’t want anything to happen to _you_ because you got this funny idea in your head you have something to _prove_ to the people who’ve got no business judging you.”

Dean looks down at the floor and chews his lip as Benny holds him by the elbow and caresses him through the towel, the pain occasionally flinching across his face and throughout his frame. They’re still a month away from their due date, but that had been determined under the assumption that their baby would follow a more human schedule. If Dean’s in so much pain that it’s discouraging him from eating, then perhaps it’s time.

Benny tilts Dean’s chin up with two fingers, a small quiver in his lips, so he can look at Dean directly, “I think we should go to the hospital, Dean. Just to be sure.”

Dean blinks quickly and puts both hands on his stomach to cover as much of it as possible, “Fine.”

In the bedroom, Benny starts gathering some fresh clothes for the two of them. Dean sits on the bed and Benny helps him put on some socks, and Benny says, “We don’t have to tell anybody. This is your fight, nobody else’s. What they think of you doesn’t matter.”

Dean gives him a wet smile and lets himself be pulled off the bed so he’s standing. Tugging Benny by his shirt collar, he kisses him again and says, “ _Our_ fight, jackass."

Benny smiles and laugh with reckless excitement, “Of course.”


End file.
